When I started this blog, I honestly didn't think anyone would be interested in knowing about my journey. I've been very pleasantly surprised about the support it's received. So many people have taken the time not only to read what's in this space but also to comment about it as well. For that, I am incredibly grateful. What's more, I've discovered not only am I sharing my journey, I'm uncovering myself in the process.
As those of you who regularly read this blog know, I am sans family. Well, not completely without family, but I don't have children. It wasn't a choice but a medical condition that prevents me from having kids; my husband is not comfortable with adoption. When I first found out I shouldn't have children, I was devastated, but never shared that with anyone. It wasn't 'me' to share my feelings (hard to believe, right?!). Years past, and like any loss, the pain eased a bit. But I find that not having the opportunity to have children, as I so deeply want, has had other unexpected and sometimes unwanted consequences.
My husband comes from a large family. He has four siblings and as of today, we have seven living nephews and nieces (one is deceased) ranging in age from 34 to 4 and seven grand- nephews and nieces. When I first met my husband, everyone was very close and we spent the vast majority of our free time with them. We were present at the births of three of our nieces and nephews, a privilege I never thought I'd have. We cared for our 'middle' nieces and nephew like they were our own, because in many ways, they were the closest thing we'd ever get to knowing what it feels like to have our own family.
But, as with so many families, there was a disagreement. There was a member of the family who, quite frankly, didn't want to BE a part of the family. That person considered their family to just be a spouse and children. Didn't want the 'intrusion' of the rest of the family. So, this person systematically took down an entire family. It's incredible to look back on the series of events and realize that's what was happening. When it was all said and done, last summer, my husband's family fell apart to the point siblings pointed fingers at each other and said they were no longer siblings. How very, very sad.
Over the last seven years or so, we stopped going to his family functions because they were just too awkward; frankly we'd stopped receiving invitations to things. My husband was always a bit philosophical about these kinds of things. I have to claim my feminine qualities for taking it much more personally; for admitting that my heart broke a little more each day we were pushed farther and farther out of the family.
At the same time last summer my husband's family was splitting apart, my parents fulfilled their dream of moving to Arizona. While they've settled in and seem happy, my Mom has had a number of medical challenges, including two stays in the hospital. I don't have the financial resources to go back and forth to Arizona, so I haven't seen them in almost a year. Just last week Mom had to go back to the emergency room; my first thought was I just wanted to be there to hold her hand. I struggle with feeling guilty that I'm not there to take care of them at a time in their lives when they really need me. Except they chose to be in Arizona and are happier there than they were when they lived here.
I made a profound realization this week. The timing of my decision to restart my genealogical journey came squarely at a time when I felt abandoned by my family. I threw myself into my genealogical research and I decided to start this blog. I recognized, as an Archivist, that there simply is not enough education out there for family historians and Genealogists about how to properly care for and manage their own collections and I want to fill that void with the knowledge I've acquired. I brought people into my circle and I tried to get on a solid path to creating an archival and genealogical services business. Having worked in the financial industry, I recognized that keeping your business and personal lives separate is a key to success. But in the Genealogical world, those lines aren't so clear cut.
The other aspect of my realization is that, feeling abandoned by my family, I tried to create a family rather than a business. I so desperately want to be a part of a family that I subconsciously created one where one didn't exist. I put expectations on people that were incredibly unfair, and in so doing, harmed potentially beneficial relationships. Only time will tell if this tactical stumble will hurt me in the future with my business; I hope that my passion for the stories our ancestors have to tell and the desire to preserve the physical remnants of those stories will be what people remember. I am a skilled technician and an exemplary researcher; I have a significant drive to share that with others.
I felt the need to share this story here because someday I hope that someone researching their family will have a greater understanding of why I'm so passionate about being a Genealogist. (As I say to myself) It's a family, dummy.
Why did YOU become a family historian or Genealogist? I'd love to collect your stories too...
26 April 2012
Thankful Thursday - It's DNA Day!
I didn't know it was DNA Day; I didn't know there WAS a DNA Day! Oddly enough though, I was planning on posting about just that thing: DNA. Last February I was perusing my Twitter feed and I came along a tweet that really caught my eye. Three words jumped off the screen at me: Free. DNA. Test. Ooh! So I clicked through to a blog post by openSNP, a website run by some really nice people hoping to make DNA data open (hence the name). They're sort of the FamilySearch.org of DNA data. Anyway, you can see their original post here.
I filled out the application right away and sent it in. Imagine my surprise when I got an email from Bastian saying that my application had been one of the 460 they received that had been accepted! SQUEEE! I just received confirmation from 23andme today that my kit is on its way and I should have it before I leave for NGS.
Why would I want to take a DNA test and allow that information to, for all intents and purposes, be made public? Well, primarily because I am the last leaf on this branch. Except that I have a congenital blood clotting disorder: a Protein-S deficiency. It is a life threatening disorder; I had a pulmonary embolism and to say that I am lucky to be alive is a gross understatement. My concern is that there are collateral branches on my family tree that could also suffer from this most silent of disorders; that it could literally kill someone if they don't know. Generally I'm not an alarmist, but if someone had come to me, prior to my medical event, and said, 'Hey, with a quick blood test you could know whether or not you have a blood disorder that might kill you.' I would've been at the doctor's office in a heartbeat.
What's even more frustrating for me is that, in the 20 years that I've known about my disorder very little research has been done. What has been done proved that there were some decisions I made, based on the information that I had at the time, that I'm now finding out may have been wrong. The most critical one: the first thing my doctor told me was that I would not be able to have children, because the medicine I'm required to take passes the placenta. As it turns out, not only could I have taken injectable drugs that don't pass the placenta, but there's now some research indicating that the type of Protein-S deficiency that I have may not even require me to TAKE medication in the first place. What a terrible thing to know, now that I am too old to start a family (and yes, I'm aware there are women who've had children in there 50s and 60s; I'm not going to be one of them.)
If by making my results available something good can come from it, then I'm all for it. Am I concerned that someone from an insurance company is going to use this information against me? No. Am I concerned a potential employer or client is going to get this information and not hire me because of it? No. Am I naive? Um, well, sometimes, yes. But I truly believe the upside potential of knowing and sharing my DNA results far exceeds any potential negatives. I'm going to be able to find out where I came from; where my roots truly lie. I'll take the results, analyze their impact on the genealogical research I do, and go forward.
Many thanks to openSNP for giving me the opportunity to share my story.
I filled out the application right away and sent it in. Imagine my surprise when I got an email from Bastian saying that my application had been one of the 460 they received that had been accepted! SQUEEE! I just received confirmation from 23andme today that my kit is on its way and I should have it before I leave for NGS.
Why would I want to take a DNA test and allow that information to, for all intents and purposes, be made public? Well, primarily because I am the last leaf on this branch. Except that I have a congenital blood clotting disorder: a Protein-S deficiency. It is a life threatening disorder; I had a pulmonary embolism and to say that I am lucky to be alive is a gross understatement. My concern is that there are collateral branches on my family tree that could also suffer from this most silent of disorders; that it could literally kill someone if they don't know. Generally I'm not an alarmist, but if someone had come to me, prior to my medical event, and said, 'Hey, with a quick blood test you could know whether or not you have a blood disorder that might kill you.' I would've been at the doctor's office in a heartbeat.
What's even more frustrating for me is that, in the 20 years that I've known about my disorder very little research has been done. What has been done proved that there were some decisions I made, based on the information that I had at the time, that I'm now finding out may have been wrong. The most critical one: the first thing my doctor told me was that I would not be able to have children, because the medicine I'm required to take passes the placenta. As it turns out, not only could I have taken injectable drugs that don't pass the placenta, but there's now some research indicating that the type of Protein-S deficiency that I have may not even require me to TAKE medication in the first place. What a terrible thing to know, now that I am too old to start a family (and yes, I'm aware there are women who've had children in there 50s and 60s; I'm not going to be one of them.)
If by making my results available something good can come from it, then I'm all for it. Am I concerned that someone from an insurance company is going to use this information against me? No. Am I concerned a potential employer or client is going to get this information and not hire me because of it? No. Am I naive? Um, well, sometimes, yes. But I truly believe the upside potential of knowing and sharing my DNA results far exceeds any potential negatives. I'm going to be able to find out where I came from; where my roots truly lie. I'll take the results, analyze their impact on the genealogical research I do, and go forward.
Many thanks to openSNP for giving me the opportunity to share my story.
17 April 2012
Tombstone Tuesday - Another Prevarication Put to Rest
With the fanfare around the 1940 Census, I've seen and heard many people new to family history, and even many grizzled veterans, speak of the importance of oral histories. As an Archivist, I believe I have an added incentive to know and understand how best to capture oral histories as a critical component to a more complete cultural history picture. But, a word of warning (or just a reminder): not everyone tells the truth.
In many, many ways, I'm very fortunate. I have first hand knowledge into just how far some people will go to lie. It's not even not remembering, we all do that. While trying to find out where my Mom lived in 1940, we had to have two conversations before she "properly" remembered that she hadn't lived in one place, but two, in Wausau, WI. As she began reconstructing her own memory, she realized that she was remembering bits and pieces of the two places and that they'd combined in her mind. She was seven years old then; she'll be 79 this summer. Oh, and she has Alzheimer's. It happens.
Nope, what I'm talking about is good ole garden-variety prevarication. I love this quote by Carl Sagan, the astrophysicist (1934-1996): "One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we've been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. The bamboozle has captured us. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back." In my case, the 'charlatan' was my Dad's mother, Flo Leatherman Cosgrove. Truth is, Flo most likely suffered from mental illness. Now, even THAT sentence could be wrong; I have no medical evidence of this, but rather a long litany of stories, some of which had they happened in more contemporary times would have landed her in jail. However, much of what Flo passed on through oral history is now being uncovered as untrue by genealogical fact.
Yesterday, I received a wonderful gift. A Twitter follower, @Litherlander, took the time to travel to the town of Burnley, Lancashire, England to look for the grave of my paternal aunt, Mary Ann. From the notes in my Family Tree Maker 2011 database, "According to Marilou Cosgrove, her father told her that he had a sister named Maryanne (spelling unknown) who died when she was approximately 16 years old of spinal menangitis. There is also a story first told by Flo Leatherman Cosgrove that when they tried to have her buried, the priest declined because they didn't have any money to give him...so she was buried in a pauper's field." It's always sad when young people die; it's the promise of life unfulfilled. And as anyone who reads this blog regularly knows, my unknown aunts and uncles are often my focus.
So, my greatest concern was locating Mary Ann to verify where she's buried, and to find out if she has a proper marker on her grave. Imagine my delight when I received these pictures:
The stone says, "Pray for the Soul of Mary Ann the beloved daughter of James and Catherine Cosgrove, She died Nov. 7th, 1906, aged 17 years, 'I beseech all those who love me to grant me the help of their prayers.'"
I can't tell you how happy I am that Flo was a prevaricator. It's sad that Mary Ann died when she was so young, but at the very least she is buried in a lovely spot and has a proper monument. I also now have to unravel the additional information provided by the cemetery: the plot has two owners, my great grandfather James Cosgrove and Francis Cosgrove, who I know nothing about. Of the five women buried there, I can only account for two, and I now have three more surnames to add to my list: Feeley, Maher, and Holihan. Ah, I do so love a mystery.
In many, many ways, I'm very fortunate. I have first hand knowledge into just how far some people will go to lie. It's not even not remembering, we all do that. While trying to find out where my Mom lived in 1940, we had to have two conversations before she "properly" remembered that she hadn't lived in one place, but two, in Wausau, WI. As she began reconstructing her own memory, she realized that she was remembering bits and pieces of the two places and that they'd combined in her mind. She was seven years old then; she'll be 79 this summer. Oh, and she has Alzheimer's. It happens.
Nope, what I'm talking about is good ole garden-variety prevarication. I love this quote by Carl Sagan, the astrophysicist (1934-1996): "One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we've been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. The bamboozle has captured us. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back." In my case, the 'charlatan' was my Dad's mother, Flo Leatherman Cosgrove. Truth is, Flo most likely suffered from mental illness. Now, even THAT sentence could be wrong; I have no medical evidence of this, but rather a long litany of stories, some of which had they happened in more contemporary times would have landed her in jail. However, much of what Flo passed on through oral history is now being uncovered as untrue by genealogical fact.
Yesterday, I received a wonderful gift. A Twitter follower, @Litherlander, took the time to travel to the town of Burnley, Lancashire, England to look for the grave of my paternal aunt, Mary Ann. From the notes in my Family Tree Maker 2011 database, "According to Marilou Cosgrove, her father told her that he had a sister named Maryanne (spelling unknown) who died when she was approximately 16 years old of spinal menangitis. There is also a story first told by Flo Leatherman Cosgrove that when they tried to have her buried, the priest declined because they didn't have any money to give him...so she was buried in a pauper's field." It's always sad when young people die; it's the promise of life unfulfilled. And as anyone who reads this blog regularly knows, my unknown aunts and uncles are often my focus.
So, my greatest concern was locating Mary Ann to verify where she's buried, and to find out if she has a proper marker on her grave. Imagine my delight when I received these pictures:
 |
| Photo courtesy @Litherlander April 2012 |
 |
| Photo courtesy @Litherlander April 2012 |
The stone says, "Pray for the Soul of Mary Ann the beloved daughter of James and Catherine Cosgrove, She died Nov. 7th, 1906, aged 17 years, 'I beseech all those who love me to grant me the help of their prayers.'"
I can't tell you how happy I am that Flo was a prevaricator. It's sad that Mary Ann died when she was so young, but at the very least she is buried in a lovely spot and has a proper monument. I also now have to unravel the additional information provided by the cemetery: the plot has two owners, my great grandfather James Cosgrove and Francis Cosgrove, who I know nothing about. Of the five women buried there, I can only account for two, and I now have three more surnames to add to my list: Feeley, Maher, and Holihan. Ah, I do so love a mystery.
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